


Anywhere But Here

by dustandroses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Awkward Sex, Bad Sex, Community: fall_for_sx, Community: tamingthemuse, Episode Related: The Wish, First Time, Holiday Fic: Christmas, M/M, PWP, Wishverse, vamp!Xander
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:17:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was awfully quiet for Christmas Eve, even in this godforsaken town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere But Here

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes:** This story was written for the Live Journal community Fall_for_sx, Season 10  
>  The song Xander is singing at the beginning of the story is from Matt Rogers' parody album [Rated Xmas](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rated_X-mas), sung to the tune of Frosty the Snowman.

 

 

It was awfully quiet for Christmas Eve, even in this godforsaken town. There was usually a stupid human or two that forgot that going out after dark was close to a death sentence in Sunnyhell. Maybe they’d be more cautious on a normal night, but the holidays always seemed to drive someone to drink, if merely to avoid the relations, and before they knew it, they were a statistic in the weekly body count of the local rag.

It was obvious that the Hellmouth put out some sort of camouflage, because it seemed there were always new body bags to be counted, when this town should have been deserted years ago. Or maybe it just dulled people’s senses, so grief and shock slid right off their backs like water off a duck. It was always bad, but now that the Master had escaped the Hellmouth, this place had really gone to the dogs.

He’d never have come, if he hadn’t had needed to get his revenge on his Dark Pearl’s bastard of a Daddy. If he hadn’t deserted them, maybe she’d still be alive. Once he’d dusted dear old Daddy, he’d turn his back on this burg and shake the dust off his boots on the way out of town. The Master could have his Sunnydale. Spike wanted no part of it. He wanted no part of anything of the Aurelius’, either, once Angel was dead.

That’s why he was here, heading down to Angel’s old basement apartment. He’d asked around, quietly, hoping that someone knew where he lived these days, but no one had seen him in years, at least no one who’d talk to Spike. Spike could feel the bastard, though. He was still in Sunnydale, somewhere, and this was as good a place to start looking as any. Hopefully, he’d come up with a clue that would lead in the right direction.

Walking down the hallway, he was surprised at how recently someone had come this way. It looked like there were people living here, or at least visiting regularly. It seemed perhaps his information wasn’t as reliable as he’d thought. He’d been told no one lived here anymore, but there was at least one vamp down here, with a strong feeling of an Aurelius; it wasn’t hard to recognize that sensation. But then, a good portion of the vamps who lived on this Hellmouth could claim some Aurelius blood. Not that the Master spread it around willy-nilly, he was usually pretty careful about spreading out his power base, at least as it pertained to Childer. But when you’d survived as long as the Master had, these things happened.

A rather hoarse voice was abusing the tune of a familiar Christmas song, but the words were rather bizarre.

_“Frosty the Pervert_   
_In a trench coat he did go_   
_To-oo the schoolyard_   
_To expose his dick_   
_And balls made out of snow.”_

Right. This was too much. He opened the door, and walked in to a scene out of one of Drusilla’s nightmares. Some bloke with dark hair, wearing black leather and a fur-trimmed Santa hat was scattering those stringy silver icicle things over a room already crowded with Christmas decorations. There was a tree in the corner, with wrapped presents underneath, and garlands festooned all the walls. The Christmas tree had string after string of those little white Christmas lights, and they twinkled over the room, keeping the rather spare furnishings well enough lit that, at first, he hadn’t even noticed that they were the only source of light.

A huge turkey sat on a small table, one half-eaten drumstick on a plate crowded with stuffing and cranberry sauce. There was more than one kind of pie, and eggnog, and a heavily stocked bar on the counter.

“What the bloody fuck is going on?”

The Ghost of Christmas Vamped snarled at him aggressively, his true face to the fore, “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

Spike could smell Angel all around them, so he knew he was in the right spot. “What the hell are _you_ doing in Angelus’ apartment?”

“Oh. You’re looking for the puppy are you?” He stared at Spike appraisingly. “And who are you?”

It seemed a legitimate question, under the circumstances. “They call me Spike.”

From the surprise in the boy’s eyes, he hadn’t been expecting that answer. “William the Bloody?”

“I prefer Spike.” He pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up. The smell of that Christmas tree was a bit overpowering in the small apartment.

He nodded. “Not a problem.”

Spike waited a moment, but when the other one didn’t seem interested in continuing the introductions, he got a bit irritated. He nudged a box of ornaments on the floor with the toe of his boot. “You got a name, or you just go by Santa Baby?”

His eyes got big, and he pulled the hat off his head, self-consciously, his features melting back into his human face. “Oh, right. I suppose this all looks kind of crazy, huh?”

Spike had been right, the boy was young. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, seventeen when he got turned. He was obviously still a fledge; he had that nervous energy that fledges seemed to be unable to avoid. He remembered it well. The whole world seemed so bright and surreal, and all you had to do was reach out and take it, and make it yours. It was a disappointment to realize that it wasn’t quite that easy. Still, being a vamp meant almost anything was possible, it just required a bit more work than a fledge expected it would. No wonder so few vamps survived their first ten or so years.

Still, seeing a vampire celebrating Christmas was a bit on the crazy side. The thing was, after a century of life with Drusilla, Spike knew crazy, and this might be a fine bit of lunacy, but nothing out of the ordinary when you’d spent years with a woman who spoke to the stars.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spike said, with another glance around the room, “I’ve seen crazier.” He motioned toward the bottles sitting on the bar. “You mind if I…”

Santa Baby blinked at the bottles. “Huh? Oh! Sure. Help yourself.” He went back behind the bar into the kitchen area, and pulled a bag of ice cubes out of the freezer. “You need ice?”

He plopped some into a tumbler, but Spike shook his head, and grabbed the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label, filled up a glass, and sat at a stool near the bar. “Thanks, I’ll drink it neat.”

Santa Baby poured his vodka over ice, and sat down in the closest chair. “The Master hadn’t mentioned you were in town. Does he know?”

Spike shrugged. “I suppose I should drop by, pay my respects. Just not in the mood for his long arsed speeches. He can talk your ear off, and I’m just not ready for that. I’d rather just kill Angelus and get the fuck out of town, right?”

He got a big-eyed look over that one, and Spike wondered if he’d overstepped his bounds. “He’s not your sire, is he? I think I’d be able to tell if we were that closely related.”

“Oh, no. I’m related to you somehow or other, but not through the puppy.”

“The puppy?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s what the Master calls Angel. He doesn’t much like him, but I don’t think he’d be happy about you dusting him. He plans to torture him for a long time. He talks about it every time he gets nostalgic over Darla.”

“Nostalgia? That skank found herself another big lug she could lead around by the balls, eh? Well, she’ll be back sooner or later, she always crawls back to the Master eventually.”

“Not this time.” Santa shook his head. “I guess you haven’t heard. The puppy dusted her a couple of years ago.”

“No!” Spike felt his world slam to a stop. He’d hated the bitch with all his might, but he had trouble imagining her not being around to make his life miserable. “Angelus did it? I didn’t think he’d ever do something like that.”

“Yeah, obviously that whole soul thing did a number on him.”

So they knew about the soul. “Yeah? So he came here to dust her?”

“I don’t think so. I think he didn’t know she was here. But she tried to get some white hats that Angel was protecting, and he dusted her to keep them safe. The Master was distraught, from what I hear. I think that’s why he turned my Willow.”

“Your Willow?”

Santa Baby shrugged. “We’d been best friends for as long as I could remember. It was always Xander, Willow, and Jessie. Darla killed Jessie when we were still fifteen. Then it was just Willow and me. The Master turned Willow the next year, and she turned me.”

Spike had been right, he was less than two years turned. Still a puppy himself. “So the Master tortures him? Regular like? The puppy, I mean.”

“Oh yeah. And it’s Willow’s favorite game. She likes making him hurt, then feeding him just enough that only the worst of the wounds heal. That way he’ll be in a lot of pain until she comes to visit him next time.”

“And he can’t get away?”

“Nah, he’s chained up tight, and the Master is the only one with the keys. He gives them to Willow when she’s been good for him, but she has to be careful. The Master would be real unhappy if he got away.”

Spike liked the sound of that. Angelus would suffer forever before the Master let him go. Darla had been his favorite. “Well that’s just alright then. Maybe I should head out before the Master knows I was here. He’d be a right bear if he found out I came through and didn’t let him know.”

“You’re leaving tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I got no reason to stay. Although I might find a place to doss for the night, and leave first thing tomorrow evening.”

“You could stay here. I’ve only got the one bed, but it’s big, there’s plenty of room. You could help me unwrap my presents.”

Spike couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a unique come-on, if I ever heard one.”

Xander grinned sheepishly. “No, I meant the ones under the tree. I got myself some new games for the Playstation, and the boxed set of Star Trek, The Next Generation.”

“Why all the Christmas trappings? You could just take what you wanted, no need to wait for a special occasion.” He had an idea, but he found himself needing to know. “You miss Christmas with the family?”

“Yeah, right,” Xander said contemptuously. “Instant mashed potatoes, and a burnt turkey, the relatives all drunk and shouting, and me hiding under the kitchen table, ‘cause the more they see you, the more they try to drag you into their fights. Most Christmas eves I spent in my sleeping bag in the back yard, with the pillow over my head to muffle the yelling. And if they _remembered_ to get me presents, they were always cheap, and broken by the relatives before I ever got to play with them.”

Xander stared at the tree in the corner, as if it held the answer to all the questions in the universe, but Spike knew there weren’t any answers. He’d spent the last six months positive that if he just killed Angelus for leaving them alone all those years ago, that would salve his heart and he wouldn’t find himself crying over his lost love. It didn’t work. You just had to go on, and pretend it was all right, until it got better on its own.

“No, I did this because I never had a Christmas worth remembering, and I figured if I wanted a merry Christmas, I’d have to do it myself. You’re welcome to share it with me, if you want.”

Spike downed the last of his drink, and scooted down onto the floor in front of the tree. “Well, then. Which one’s the PlayStation in?”

Xander grinned widely, and joined him at the tree.

* * *

Usually, when Spike first had sex with someone new, there was a hesitation, when he wasn’t sure what they would like, if they wanted to rush to the finish line, or go slow and drag it out like exquisite torture. But if he could get past that hesitancy, and make a connection, it was as if something clicked into place, and he’d just know that he was getting it right. Then there were the times when from the very beginning, he knew that this was going to be perfect, and he was usually right.

In between, there were times like these. They both turned their heads the same way, and back again at the same time. Their teeth clacked together right before Xander kneed him in the balls. Spike ripped Xander’s shirt when it got twisted underneath him, and he ended up with cloth burn in a two foot line across his back. When Spike tried to squirm out of his jeans, Xander got his foot trapped underneath him, and kicked him right off the bed.

Xander couldn’t stop laughing at Spike as he hung half off the mattress, laughing so hard his eyes got teary. It was easy for Spike to grab his leg, and pull Xander off as well. The problem was, Spike hadn’t judged the spacing well enough, and Xander’s elbow landed in Spike’s solar plexus. It didn’t matter if he didn’t have to breathe, not being able to do so put Spike right out of the mood, and he lost his hard-on completely.

That was when the wrestling match started. They rolled across the floor until they bumped into the wall, barely avoiding getting crowned by the wooden mask that fell off the wall as they headed back in the other direction. They came to a halt, Spike on top. He held Xander’s hands down over his head, and attacked his mouth, shoving his tongue in aggressively. He loved the way Xander didn’t give up the fight, despite the fact that Spike had the advantage of strength and age. He scratched his fingernails down Spike’s back in lines of fire that burned him inside and out.

He had to let go of Xander’s hands to tackle his leather pants, but the buttons gave reluctantly to his eager fingers, and it seemed like forever before he finally got them open. That was when Xander attacked, pushing Spike onto his back, and sitting on his cock, making Spike moan hungrily. Xander’s jeans were open now, so Spike reached in and pulled out his cock, pumping it in his hands, squeezing hard enough to make Xander’s eyes roll back into his head. That gave Spike the perfect opportunity to push Xander backwards, toppling him off, so Spike could tackle him, flipping him over and putting a knee in Xander’s back, holding him down.

Spike had seen where Xander had set the lube on the nightstand, but it was out of his reach, and he knew that if he stretched far enough to grab it, Xander would take advantage of his distraction, and flip them over again. So he spit on his fingers, and used that as lube, running them along the crack of Xander’s ass. He was faced sideways across Xander. If he moved his knee up slightly, he was flexible enough to get his tongue down and swipe across Xander’s hole. That was more like it.

Xander was moaning by now, lifting his hips to help Spike get as much spit as he could in Xander’s arse. Spike didn’t blame him. The boy was tight, Spike got the idea that he didn’t bottom that often, and although blood could pass as a lube, it wasn’t usually the preferred choice, at least not for the fellow on bottom.

Once he’d done the best he could under the circumstances, he flipped around to the side, fitting his knees between Xander’s, spreading him wide. He lifted his arse to Spike’s cock, and Spike slid in to the hilt, drawing a scream out of Xander. He was sure that hadn’t been entirely pleasure, but he was a vamp, he knew that it would soon be forgotten in what was to come. Besides, a little pain intensifies the pleasure.

He didn’t think either of them were going to last long, in any event, they were straining together, their bodies slapping against each other as they pushed the pleasure higher. Spike dropped down onto his elbows, reaching underneath with one hand to tweak Xander’s nipples. That earned Spike a heavy growl, and he laughed, and bit the back of Xander’s neck with human teeth, not hard enough to break the skin, just enough to tease.

Xander started chanting with each thrust, “Harder, harder, harder!”

Not one to disappoint, Spike redoubled his efforts, turning Xander’s words into grunts that flew out of him, air displaced with the strength of his thrusts. Xander started to wail, his voice getting higher and higher, and Spike realized that he must be close. He turned his head, and bit true into Xander’s neck making him scream as he came, jerking hard against the wooden floor.

After a moment or two, Xander grabbed the hand Spike had left under his chest, pulling it around enough to bite into Spike’s wrist, drawing heavily. Spike pulled his head back to cry out as he felt his orgasm explode inside him, whiting out his vision.

When he finally relaxed, he fell heavily onto Xander’s back.

“Oof!” Xander complained. “You’re not nearly as light as you look, you know.”

“Bloody hell. Can’t I get a moment’s peace to enjoy the best orgasm I’ve had in months?”

“You can enjoy all you want, but you’d be more comfortable on the bed. So would I,” he hinted.

“Some host you are. Making your guest move off a perfectly comfortable mattress, just so _you_ won’t be inconvenienced.” Nevertheless, Spike struggled to his feet, and collapsed on the bed. “Yeah, all right, I guess this mattress is slightly less lumpy than that one was.”

Xander flopped over onto his back. “Bloody hell.”

Spike looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.

Xander shook his head. “Nah. Doesn’t work in an American accent.”

Spike snorted. “You’re smarter than you look. Don’t let them tell you otherwise.”

Xander grabbed the remnants of his shirt, and used it to clean up with before dropping it back on the floor. He staggered to his feet, and pushed Spike. “Scoot over.”

Spike did, and Xander collapsed onto the bed next to him. “I’m hungry.”

“You’ve had all of me you can have, until I top off. Haven’t eaten yet tonight.”

“I’ve got someone in the larder. I’ll split her with you; I’m not in the mood to go back out tonight.”

Rolling onto his side, he smirked at Xander. “I wondered what that thumping noise was.”

“That was you pounding my ass.”

“No, that _other_ thumping noise, you berk.”

Xander stared at Spike, biting his lip. It was obvious he had something he wanted to say. “So, you’re out of here tomorrow?”

“Yeah, no reason to stick around, now that I know Puppy Boy is in for long term torture. I’m free to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“No clue,” Spike shrugged. “Haven’t thought that far.”

“I could use a ride.” He spoke hesitantly, as if worried that he’d be refused. “If you had room for a passenger.”

Well there was a thought. “Might do. You’d leave your Sire? I thought it had been just the two of you forever.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t need me now. Some days it’s like she hardly even knows I’m here. She’s got the Master. He’s teaching her magic, and he’s got someone to tutor her in computer science. He says it’s the wave of the future. She’s got no time for me.”

“Huh.” He’d wondered why Xander didn’t live in the Bronze with the Master’s entourage. “Well, I guess I could fit in a hitchhiker. Which direction you going?”

“Anywhere but here,” he said with finality.

“Well, you’re in luck. That’s exactly the way I was headed.” Spike dropped onto his back, pulling the sheet up to cover them both.

Looked like he’d picked up a passenger. He was young, but then, that could be good. How did that phrase go? Raise ‘em the way you want ‘em. Might be fun at that. Only one way to find out.


End file.
